Page 25 of Redemption

“You, love.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because, Victoria No Last Name, sometimes warriors need reminders that they’re badass.” He clinked his bottle against hers before she could protest. “Plates, and then there is roast beef and fried chicken. Two different kinds of potatoes…”

Whatever else Ryder said didn’t matter. She didn’t hear anything else but “sometimes warriors need reminders that they’re badass.” How was he this confused? Or maybe she was? Once upon a time, not that long ago, she’d been confident enough in herself that maybe she was a little too cocky. And that’s what got her in all this trouble to begin with. Correcting him didn’t seem to work.

“Victoria?” Ryder stepped closer. “Fine. You get both. Roast beef and chicken. You won’t regret it.”

He put his bottle down and grabbed a fork from the drawer, peeling back the lids from two containers.

“I can get it.” She put her bottle next to his.

“I assume you could too. But not if you keep drifting off.” He paused and flicked a piece of chicken into the air and caught it with his mouth. “I’m telling you. Mia makes wonder food. Soon as you eat, you’ll feel better. And whatever’s bouncing around in your head? Put it on pause. You can deal with it after you get a full stomach.”

She deflated. Was she that easy to read? Back in the day, she could keep her cards close to the vest if she wanted to.

With minimal effort, Ryder packed two plates with far more food than she could ever hope to eat. He microwaved both and placed them at the breakfast bar.

“I’m feeling helpless,” she muttered and stood in search of silverware.

“Second drawer on the right.”

“Thanks.” At least she wasn’t a total dunce in the lend-a-hand department.

“Now we feast.”

A minute later, Ryder pulled a bar stool next to her, and they both sat in the dimly lit silence. As leftovers went, this was some of the best food Victoria had ever had. She barely tamped down a groan of satisfaction.

“Told you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes. “Mia’s the shit in the kitchen.”

This time, Victoria mumbled an agreement even though her mouth was full. “Mm-hmm.”

After a few more minutes of silent eating, she took a sip of the beer. “Maybe you were right.”

“Of course I was right.” His forked clinked quietly against the plate. “About what?”

She smiled against the opening of the beer bottle and let it rest against her bottom lip. “That food would help.”

“That’s common sense.” Ryder stretched and grabbed his beer. They took long sips and placed their bottles next each other. “But Mia’s kitchen is like Titan’s secret weapon.”

“Titan and Delta are the same thing?”

He nodded. “Titan signs the paycheck. Delta is my team.”

“Ah.” She wondered about her paycheck. Or lack thereof. Being self-employed had always been a bonus, and getting her little company off the ground had been hard. Hell, being a woman bounty hunter and private investigator wasn’t easy to start with. But she’d never shied away from a challenge. Now who would hire her? Someone who couldn’t protect herself? Someone who never saw this attack coming? No one. Sure, she could pick up bounties. But that wasn’t enough to pay the bills and live the life she wanted. That was barely enough to live paycheck to paycheck. The PI work was where she flourished—that and teaching self-defense classes, acting as a pillar in the community, as what a strong, single woman business owner could be. And now look at her.

She was a sham.

Still, a well-rested sham with a full stomach.

“Where’s your mind?” Ryder asked quietly.

“Home,” she finally admitted.

“Why won’t you tell me anything about that place?”

“Because I’m not ready to face it.” She picked up her fork and drew lines in what was left of the gravy on the plate. “Because they think I’m something that this whole… situation proved I’m not.”

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